


Beast-Eater

by rywned



Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Dismemberment, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-31
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2019-03-11 22:51:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13534206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rywned/pseuds/rywned
Summary: A great beast has claimed dozens of lives, going from town to town and eating its fill before moving on to the next. The Constables have had enough and have decided to take it down once and for all, yet all but one have also fallen to the vile beast of blood, and Valtr isn't at all sure he can make it through the night.





	Beast-Eater

**Author's Note:**

> I'll be perfectly honest with you, it's my birthday today and I just wanted to be done writing this, so there's probably a few typos and grammatical errors dotted about in here. But I can't be bothered to edit it so you'll take what you're given

Thirty. There had been thirty of them in the beginning, hailed as heroes as they’d first left town to give chase after the beast that had claimed fourteen lives over the past two months. With a small arsenal of the finest weaponry that the constables could afford, everyone had thought that it would be an easy job. Nothing more than a brisk walk in the park. Chief Constable William’s jawless head stared up at Valtr from where it had landed in his lap, eyes wide and almost fully rolled back. There had been thirty of them when they’d left that misty morning three days ago, but Valtr began to suspect that very soon there would be none.

The wound in his side was deep, deep enough that he could sink his index and middle fingers in down to the knuckle before he was met with resistance. He could feel something a bit more solid just beneath if he really started to jab and feel around. Was it bone, a rib? Was he touching his own rib through his side? He couldn’t tell, he wasn’t even sure if he was feeling pain. All he knew was that he was almost entirely numb with a very large jagged slash in his right side, his head was so light that it felt like it was going to float away on its own, and that there was a loud crunching and ripping sound only a few feet in front of him. If he squinted, Valtr thought he could make out the vague shape of the beast in the dark, slowly munching its way through William’s stomach.

Part of him felt somewhat jealous of the man, already dead and no longer having to suffer even though his body was being yanked to and fro as more and more pieces were stripped from his bones, while he was forced to wait until he either finally bled out or the beast decided it wanted a taste of something else. He snorted at the thought, the beast raising it’s head briefly as he sat there, giggling away like a madman. Jealous of a dead body, what an absolutely ridiculous idea.

He prodded his side again, lifting his hand and frowning at what little he could see in the dim light of night that slipped through the branches of the trees above him, unable to tell if the blood was staining his skin or his glove. He was still wearing them, wasn’t he? Did he even take them off at all? He let it thud back down to his side, wondering why he would’ve wanted to take them off in the first place. Was he even actually alive at this point? Perhaps he’d actually bled out hours ago and this lingering madness was some sort of punishment that he was being forced to endure, the limbo he was stuck in as the gods decided whether or not they would allow him to move on. Another bubble of laughter welled up, softer this time, almost mournful. Twenty-five years old and he was going to die alone in the middle of nowhere. No one would come looking for him, and it was unlikely that anyone would ever find his remains. His shoulders began to shudder, he didn’t know if he actually was laughing or if he was crying.

William was still staring up at him with those dead glassy eyes, almost judgemental as if he were asking why Valtr hadn’t been able to save him. Why Valtr was the one who got to survive while he had to die so brutally. “Stop looking at me like that,” Valtr managed to mumble, twisting his body just enough so that the head rolled off and landed with a small squelch next to him. It would have been easier to simply push it off, but his right hand had found its way back to his side and the left simply felt too heavy to lift. He looked at where the head had landed, just to make sure that it wasn’t looking at him anymore, and spied something silver lying just behind it.

Jones’ pistol. Her hand was still holding onto it tightly, but her torso was nowhere in sight. He stared at it blankly for several moments before deciding to reach over and try to grab it. A pained gasp slipped from his mouth as he leant forwards, a dull throbbing caressing his waist as he strained to grab even the smallest edge of her sleeve. So he could still feel pain after all he thought, slowly dragging the arm through the dirt towards him and uncurling her fingers. He patted her forearm gently then held the gun up before him, the barrel swaying as he attempted to point it at the beast. A single click as he pulled the trigger indicated that the chamber was already empty. Probably a good thing too, the bullet would have missed by more than a foot. Valtr let loose a small annoyed raspberry and began to fumble through his pocket to see if he still had any bullets of his own left. He rolled them around in his palm, running his thumb over the smooth casings as he tried to count them. Four, three attempts for the beast and one for himself if it came down to it. Though considering how terrible his aim had just been, perhaps it would be better to ration two for each.

“What a fucking day it has been,” he sighed, trying to jam one of the bullets into the chamber. “What. A. _Fucking._ Day. And you! _You_ said this would be easy!” He waved the barrel in the general direction of William’s head. “Easy my fucking ass...”

Finally loaded, Valtr struggled to raise his arm again, trying to steady his breathing through the haze in his mind in hopes that that his aim would follow suit. Even thought it settled, the beast was at the wrong angle for the shot to be effective. At most he’d hit the shoulder or maybe just below it, and that would surely just result in the beast taking a swipe at his face. Perhaps he could get its attention? Throwing something would take effort that he simply could not be bothered to give, so he settled for pulling off his left glove and sticking two fingers in his mouth, giving a short sharp whistle. All he needed was for it to glance at him. The beast’s ears pricked up briefly. He whistled again, longer this time. The munching paused and the snout lifted ever so slightly.

“Oh for the love of...”

Valtr stifled the urge to moan in pain as he inhaled and whistled as loud and hard as he could, the high pitch making his ears ring long after he had stopped. The beast growled and pushed itself up, snarling in annoyance as it turned to face him. The glimpse of yellow eyes was all he needed, Valtr pulling the trigger before it could look away again. The beast screeched in agony as the bullet ripped through its snout, frantically clawing at its face. He scrambled to quickly load the second bullet, barely getting it in the chamber in time as the beast prepared to lunge, this time striking it right in the nose. It staggered back several steps and screamed. It was too loud for Valtr to ignore, the pistol tumbling to the ground from his hand as he pressed his palms against his ears to try and block it out. The horrid sound ceased after what felt like hours, the two of them then just staring at one another.

 _This is it,_ he thought. _This is where I finally die._

He expected it to leap, to dig its claws deep into his chest and split him in half like an axe going through a log. To his surprise, it simply hissed at him and turned, pausing to clamp its jaws down into William’s body and drag it behind as it crawled away further into the woods. He stared after it with wide eyes and his mouth hanging open, utterly shocked that it had decided to let him live. He had struck the bastard twice and he was still sitting against the same tree he’d been in front of for what felt like the past several hours, without even a single extra scratch upon his person. He was still alive. For the moment.

A fresh spurt of blood dripped down his side, a new wave of pain snaking its way through his veins and drawing a strained growl from his throat. He had to do something about it now if he was going to at all. The way he saw it, he had three options. The first was to simply continue sitting there and just wait until his body finally decided to give up on him completely, though who knew how long that would take. The second was to load up the third bullet and shove the barrel in his mouth. No one would blame him for wanting to blast his brains out, it certainly seemed to be the more preferable option in that moment. The final option was the most difficult of the three, and would require quite a bit more pain to be pushed through.

Valtr growled again as he forced himself to sit up proper, using his feet to push his lower back closer to the trunk of the tree and shoving his glove into his pocket as he began to look at the carnage that surrounded him. Somewhere amongst all the blood and guts were several first aid packs. If he could find one of them and a lantern, he would be able to stitch up his side. It would in no way be perfect, but it should be enough to stop him from dying anytime soon. But then again there was the question that began to echo in the back of his mind. Did he even _want_ to go on?

He thought about what awaited him back home. A small shitty house that still needed patching up in places, the pile of books he’d been meaning to get around to but simply never did. The apology letters he kept writing that were never sent, but also didn’t have the heart to burn. He looked at the bodies that surrounded him, wondering if he’d be able to handle returning and being hounded constantly, families demanding to know where their loved ones were and what had happened to them. Which in turn threw up another question. If he did indeed decide to stitch himself up, did he continue the chase or return home? What would he say when he did get back? Would he tell them the truth, that they had all been overpowered, or would he lie and pray that news of similar attacks ever reached them?

He couldn’t do that, he _wouldn’t_. Valtr had already run from his problems once, never again. Hand pressed tightly to his side in an attempt to prevent anything else from leaking out, Valtr began to drag himself across the bloody grass, rolling bodies and tossing limbs out of the way as he scoured the area. The packs had also been torn apart amidst all the fighting, supplies thrown all over the place and requiring even more effort on his part to collect what he needed. Half an hour later, he was finally back where he started. Miraculously one of the lanterns still had some oil in it, hopefully enough to let him see what he was doing. There had been plenty of bandages, but all of them were dirty in some way. Using them to bind his side would just lead to infection even faster. It wasn’t ideal, but he would simply have to go without.

Ten minutes it took him to ready the suture, taking his time to clean the wound as best he could. He knew why he was going so slowly. He had been stitched up several times in the past and it had never been a pleasant experience. Now it was going to be even worse. He glared at his shaking hand, he was starting to wish he had been shredded completely.

“God, if you’re up there-” he said, grabbing his dagger and slicing open his coat and shirt, gagging at how bad the wound truly looked in the light. “-I would very much appreciate if you either did this for me, or just killed me now. Either would be just great. _Please._ ”

Reaching over with his left hand, he gripped his flesh and squeezed the wound closed, his right hand trembling more and more the closer he brought the suture. The back of his neck felt wet and he knew that he was sweating. Excellent, just what he needed. A whimper escaped as he forced himself to push the suture through the first time, his head falling back and eyes squeezing shut after tugging on the thread. Had anyone been watching him, they would’ve called him squeamish and laughed. Valtr would have then invited them to try it themselves and see how well they dealt. Doing such a procedure on oneself and doing it on another were two very different things. He pushed the suture through again and tried to recall if there had been any medical clinics in any of the towns they had passed through earlier.

And so it went with every stitch, wishing he were doing anything else each time the suture was pushed through. Yet he managed to persist until he had gone all the way down and up again. It was sloppy work, some stitches were closer to each other than others and the knot barely stayed put after he tied it, but it held. He cut the thread, took his hand away, and the wound remained closed. It was still rather bloody and his fingers were glued together, but it was done. A minor success in this long string of failures. Valtr threw the suture to the side, grabbed the small bottle of laudanum he’d found amongst the mess, pulled free the stopped and swallowed the contents whole. The taste was foul and it made him splutter, but it would deal with any lingering agony for a short while at least. Provided he didn’t drop from an overdose that was. Not that he really cared much by now, suffering an overdose was the last thing on his mind.

A doctor would have told him to rest and wait until he had regained some of his strength, but he had no time. Every further minute he wasted was another minute the beast used to get away, to cause chaos for any other unfortunate soul that stumbled across it. Back pressed against the trunk of the tree, Valtr slowly pushed himself up onto his feet, fingers digging into the bark as his head swam. One breath, two, and the sensation passed. His steps were slow and cautious, grimacing as he leant down to swipe up the pistol and a discarded axe. He had two bullets left and had no idea how useful they would be when he found the beast again, but they were better than nothing. A trail of blood and viscera leading deeper into the woods was his only indication of where the beast had even gone, and that was the direction he began to stagger. Valtr had a duty to fulfill, one that fell to him alone as the last of the constables, and by god he was going to do whatever he could to see it through to the end.

 

~

 

The days blurred together as Valtr continued his chase. His strength was still lacking, his side still ached terribly, but he was still able to put one foot in front of the other and thankfully remained uninfected. He had been given a minor blessing from above in the form of some travellers who’d been willing to part with a small amount of food and some clean bandages in exchange for his pistol. Taking the firearm left him feeling somewhat naked, but it was better that than the axe.

Trails of shredded clothing and small heaps of organs were the only signs that he was definitely still on the right track, anger brewing in his stomach due to the fact that he’d been unable to catch up and put the mangy monster down before it had killed again. So distracted by his anger that he stopped paying attention to where he was going and almost tripped over a small pile of bones. He would have ignored them had something gleaming sitting atop them not caught his attention. Something gold with a very distinct and recognisable pattern engraved into the surface. William’s badge that marked him as their chief, the beast had finally eaten its way through him then. Valtr carefully picked it up and stared at it mournfully, wiping off the smears of blood with the pad of his thumb before pressing it to his forehead and uttering a silent prayer. Hopefully the old man was safe and at peace wherever he’d ended up. He slipped it into his pocket before continuing onwards, swearing he would return the badge to his wife if he survived this ordeal.

A small step of progress he supposed, yet he was still no closer to the beast itself. The trail just seemed to go on and on, eating away at Valtr’s sanity as he came across more and more victims. He had tried to keep count at first, so he would know just how many minutes he would have to make the beast suffer before he finally let it die. He gave up after he realised he’d been counting the number of disembodied parts instead of people as a whole. It also didn’t help that the scenery didn’t really seem to change much as he travelled. The trees thinned here and there, occasionally leading to a small clearing, but he never seemed to find his way back to a main road. Only once did he stumble across a small dirt path, tempted to follow it and see if it would take him back to civilization. He forced himself to continue onwards, to pretend he had never even seen it.

The dark of night began to take hold of the sky, Valtr’s head slowly falling forwards and his eyes drooping. He was tired, good god he was tired. He wanted nothing more than to just drop to the ground and curl up in the dirt for a few hours, or maybe even a few weeks.

 _Please,_ his body begged. _Just for a little while. Surely it wouldn’t hurt to have just a short rest, would it?_

He ignored his own pleas and somehow continued onwards. If he paused for even the slightest moment, he would lose the trail. He would never catch up, and his efforts would all have been for naught. And there was simply no way in hell he was ever going to let that happen. The trees themselves would have to come alive and spear him to the ground with their roots to make him stop.

Unfortunately it didn’t matter just how much resolve his mind had, his body refused to follow. His knees finally buckled and he collapsed to the ground, axe slipping free from his grasp. He simply lay there panting, pressing his hand to his side lightly as if he were making sure it was still in one piece. A distant rumbling caused him to groan, he didn’t have any strength left to try and drag himself to cover. Looks like he’d have to resign himself to a very soggy night. Though it did mean that maybe he would have a chance to finally wash himself some, clean away the grime and sweat that clung to his face, perhaps even wring some of the blood out of his gloves. They were beyond uncomfortably sticky by now and his concern that he soon wouldn’t be able to pull them off at all continued to grow.

The clouds gathered and the first raindrops began to fall alongside Valtr’s eyelids. His face twitched with every drop that splattered on him, but he could feel himself slowly drifting off. A small doze wouldn’t hurt, he supposed. Just a short one. It would be peaceful, the rain providing a soft white noise to help him drown out the rest of the world. The rain and the breathing.

Breathing.

Valtr’s eyes snapped open and he pushed himself up, hand scrambling for the axe. It was close, shuddering and heavy. Weak. It was interrupted by a small whine every now and then, but it never seemed to get any closer to where he was. So he was nearer to the beast than he thought he was, and evidently something else had had a go at it before he could. Even so, he was safe where he was. The beast didn’t seem to even know that he was there. As long as he didn’t move or make too much noise, he probably could’ve gotten away with just lying there for a few hours without too much trouble. But on the other hand, this was the perfect chance. Maybe the _only_ chance he would get.

 _Don’t you dare,_ he could almost hear his body say. _We are not going anywhere, not right now._

His side howled at him as he forced himself onto his feet, grimacing as he gave it a short sharp smack. “Suck it up,” he hissed to himself. “We’ll sleep when we’re dead.”

He began to creep his way over to where the beast presumably lay, though it wasn’t until he was about halfway across when he realised that he still wasn’t exactly sure just what he was going to do when he reached it. The beast was injured, enough so that it was struggling to move, but so was he. He had only one weapon that very much required him to be able to swing fast and freely, and it could also very easily be swept from his grasp while the beast would only need its teeth to tear him apart.

_Shit._

Valtr’s heart began to hammer away in his chest, thick droplets of rain flattening his hair and rolling down his face as he gently pushed aside branches and bushes, peering through them to try and make out the shapes beyond. A brief flash of lightning let him see all he needed. A large silver sword had been rammed in deep in the beast’s back, not quite through the spine but still close enough to cripple it. If he could somehow get his hands on that blade, it would put him in a damn better position than the one he was currently in.

So he circled around, staying low to the grass with his eyes locked on the fiend as he crept around the edge of the small clearing until he was certain he was no longer in its field of vision. The only movements it made were the odd jolting of limbs, occasionally lifting a hand and trying to reach around to its back, shaking every time there was a new boom of thunder, as did Valtr as he slunk forwards and began to extend his arm out. Even lying down, the thing easily would’ve come up to his waist had he been standing. His fingers closed around the handle of the blade, he could no longer tell if his heart was beating extremely fast or not at all. One last glance. The beast still slept as soundly as it could. Valtr breathed in, adjusted his grip a final time, then yanked as hard as he could. The blade slid out easily, rending more flesh apart as he stumbled backwards, thrown to the ground by the beast’s screams and agonized thrashing.

Lightning split the sky, the beast now standing at full height, maw open wide in a snarl and eyes ablaze with rage. The two of them stood frozen in place, rain crashing down around them as they locked eyes with one another. The beast roared, an earth shattering sound that could have rocked the forest, then lunged. Valtr only had time to see it flying towards him and found that he couldn’t think. He didn’t know what to do. One arm went up to shield his face while the other went higher, piercing the beast’s chest. Claws raked their way up and pulled his arm away, scraping up his cheeks and nose as the beast plummeted back to the ground behind him. He rolled onto his side and began to frantically wipe at his face as fresh blood blossomed, staining what little vision he still had red, a great sting forcing his eyes shut tight. He screamed in pain and continued to drag his hands across the wounds, as if he could somehow brush away the burning. During the split seconds he could keep his eyes open, he could see the beast lying on its back, weakly trying to slap at the blade embedded deep in its chest. It couldn’t grip, all it could do was try in vain to push the length of metal out.

Valtr managed to climb to his feet and stumble over, axe dragging along the ground beside him after picking it up again. He managed to keep one eye open, but that one eye was all he needed. The beast stared up at him helplessly, breathing haggardly. Valtr planted his feet firmly in the ground and raised the axe high above his head.

“Let’s see how _you_ like it!” he growled, bringing the blade down upon the beast’s shoulder. It screamed as metal ripped through flesh, as bone splintered and muscles snapped in two. A new sensation flooded Valtr’s chest. It made him feel light, re-energised. It was exhilarating. A second wind coupled with a sick satisfaction at watching the monster squirm and bleed beneath him. His head tilted to the side as he watched the fingers still twitching and spasming . Surely he should’ve felt ill at the sight. Instead it felt _right._

The first arm almost entirely severed, he moved around to the other and began to hack away at that, then moving on to the legs and tail until each was barely holding on by the barest of threads. He could feel the corners of his mouth slowly turning upwards as he tossed the axe to the side momentarily and leant down, putting his face right next to it’s.

“Have you had enough yet?” he breathed. “All that you’re going through now, was it worth it?” He gripped the sword handle once more and painstakingly began to pull it free, reveling in how the beast gasped in pain. “All those people, all that blood.” The blade came free, tip hovering above the open wound for only a few seconds before he began to push it back in again. “You miserable vile waste of skin, you wouldn’t know worth if it smacked you in the face.”

He rammed the blade the rest of the way in and then stepped away, moving next to one of the arms. One foot resting atop its abdomen, he dug his hands into fur and and flesh and pulled, his satisfaction turning to a sense of euphoria as the last tendons snapped. With each limb he yanked off, the higher on cloud nine he went. Was this true happiness? A true sense of fulfillment and satisfaction? He looked down at his hands, covered in layers of mucus and viscera, then chuckled. He wiped a stream of rainwater off his face, replacing it with a dirty lumpy red.

“I could just kill you now and be done with it-” he hummed, circling around and admiring his handiwork. “-but where’s the fun in that? You haven’t suffered nearly enough. I won’t feel done until I’m sure you’ve felt as much pain as they did.” He dropped to his knees and retrieved the axe, grabbing a handful of fur. “You’d make a pretty nice coat, I think. I’m sure William’s wife would appreciate the trophy.” He pulled it tight and lowered the blade to it. “Though you’ll just have to hope I do a nice neat job.”

The beast didn’t even move as he began to cut through, its voice already hoarse from prior screams. Two barely audible whimpers were all it could muster before it simply lay there, watching as Valtr sliced every patch of fur off that he could find. Soon it was just a heap of raw bloody flesh sitting beneath a blood soaked madman. Had a stranger come across this scene, what would they have thought? What did he look like from the eyes of another? Like an insane man escaped from an asylum? A mass murderer settling for something inhuman because he couldn’t get his hands on a man? The beast stared up at him, barely breathing now. Did it think him the same as it?

“Don’t look at me like that.”

Without even thinking, Valtr’s fingers found their way into the beast’s eye socket, sliding about as they fought to grip the small squishy organ. He couldn’t hear the rain anymore, the thunder was barely even white noise at this point. All was drowned out as he closed them tighter, tighter, until the eye suddenly burst. He pulled what remained of it free, staring at the nerve as it dangled in front of his face. It looked inviting, almost calling to him. His mouth opened wide, head tilting back, and the nerve was dropped in, slipping and sliding about as he chewed. It disappeared down his throat without any trouble, the gears in his mind turning as he contemplated its taste. And then his gaze fell down.

The axe long forgotten, he leaned forwards and sank his teeth in deep, biting down hard and neck straining as he tore mouthful after mouthful of flesh away. It was chewy, somewhat slimy with odd flavours that he couldn’t quite place. His eyes darted to and fro as he ate, trying to remember if he had ever eaten anything similar in the past. The organs he saved for last, savouring the stretch as they slowly came apart in his mouth. The rain had long stopped and the morning sun had risen by the time he finally made his way down to the rib cage.

 

~

 

He never even realised that he’d passed out. Valtr snapped awake and jolted up into a sitting position, breathing heavily and looking around wildly. Where on earth was he? Why did it feel like all of him was soaked through to the bone? He shielded his eyes and blinked slowly until they adjusted to the brilliant light, frowning at the sight of something red and chunky. His hand lowered as he stared at it with wide eyes. It was covered in small squishy bits, long stray hairs, and an odd goo stretching and dripping between his extended fingers. He struggled with the glove, grimacing as the skin beneath tried to leave with the sodden fabric. His skin was dyed red as well, as was the rest of him. Just what on earth had happened to him?

There was red next to him as well, more squishy things, small heaps of fur and skin and bone. A corpse, or what remained of it. The skull of the beast watched him with empty eye sockets, jaw hanging open. Memories came flooding back to him; the chase, his wound, his glee.

He convulsed and shifted to his knees, retching as his stomach heaved and emptied itself in front of him, bile and saliva splashing onto his fingers. He was somewhat thankful that his hair seemed to be glued together, staying out of his face as he coughed and spluttered, tears leaking from his eyes and running down his nose. Even when he was certain that there was nothing more to come up, he continued to heave until his throat felt raw, the foul taste of the slime coating his tongue almost being enough to draw up something more. He spat and wiped at his mouth with his sleeve, shoulders shaking at the crystal clear visions of what he had done. Of how he had felt with every swing of the axe. Just what kind of monster had he become over the course of one night?

His crisis was cut short, his body going rigid at the sensation of something moving on him. Almost squirming. He looked down and came face to face with the sight of something long and a deep crimson crawling its way around his arm. There was another on his thigh, a third begin to climb up his waist. He screamed and kicked out, sending the red thing flying.

 _“Get off of me!”_ he cried, crying and scrambling to crawl away as more and more seemed to appear from nowhere. Up his trouser leg, under his shirt, the red creatures were relentless in their assault on his body.

And then there was a squelch, a loud one that draw his attention and seemed to make the bugs give pause. There was someone standing over him, looking down at the still writhing creature almost curiously before twisting their foot and driving it further into the ground. Body still shaking far beyond his control, Valtr could only lie there and watch as the stranger knelt down and began to yank the bugs off of him, throwing them to the grass and smashing them with his knees, his fists, the end of his cane. Crushing them into a dark brown pulp. Once there was only a spread of goo remaining, the stranger finally turned their attention to him.

“You can see them too then, I take it?” His voice was older, but had an air of grandness about it. He wondered if the face matched, but it was obscured by what looked like an upturned bucket with a single eye hole cut out on the left side.

“See...see what?” Valtr asked. The man jabbed him in the chest. “Ow!”

“The vermin lad!” he proclaimed, sweeping an arm out in front of him. “The source of humanity’s impurities!” He chuckled and sat down proper, crossing his legs and draping his cane across his lap. “Quite a few of them too by the looks of it. T’is rare I can find another who can see just how many there truly are.” His head turned towards the grisly remains of the beast. “Hmm! I suppose _this_ is your handiwork too? Impressive...most impressive indeed!” A hand flew out and grabbed Valtr’s shaking it vigorously. “I am Erwin, Master of the League of Confederates. I’ve been searching for someone like you, lad, something with a strong will and an iron stomach.” His gaze dropped and a chuckle echoed within the bucket. “Or maybe not.”

Valtr could only stare, his mouth hanging open. What on earth was he supposed to say? “I...I...what?” was all that managed to come out.

“I want you to join us, boy. You have a gift for seeing the vermin that plagues man. You could help us eliminate it, stamp it out and protect humanity further.” Erwin leant closer, prompting Valtr to lean back. “Ohh but you can see more, so much more. It’s in your eyes, you have stared _deep_ into the depths of impurity, far further than I ever could. You absolutely must join us, you could be vital to our mission!”

He’d had enough, he was starting to feel sick again. Valtr pushed himself away and scrambled up to his feet, clutching his stomach with one hand. “Look, I’m...appreciative of your offer...I think...but I really need to...not be here. I need to find a doctor, I-I need to go _home_.”

Erwin hummed again and climbed up as well, in a far smoother motion. “Oh you won’t need a doctor, lad. The blood’s already fixed you up.”

“Blood? What?”

He gestured to the bandage around Valtr’s waist. “Take a look for yourself if you don’t believe me.”

Nonsense, it had to be nonsense. Reluctantly he took the dagger than Erwin offered and sliced away the dirty bandage, his fingers trembling as they glided over the fresh layer of pink skin that lay beneath. The wound was closed, a thick jagged mark being the only thing that ever showed it was there in the first place. He cut one of the stitches, wincing slightly as he pulled the black string out and held it up before him, marveling at the sight.

“You see? Good as new!”

“Bu...but... _how?_ How is this even possible? This has to be a trick!”

Erwin laughed, head back as the booming sound echoed around them. “Oh it’s no trick, my boy.” He stepped forwards, ignoring the squelches as he stepped through viscera and bile, throwing his arm around Valtr’s shoulders and clamping a hand down on his arm. “There’s a pub not too far from here. Why don’t we go sit and have a good chat.”


End file.
